Thunder crashed.  The wind howled outside, slapping sheets of rain against the window glass and through the screen, creating a wet spot on the carpet.  Cold water sprayed across Jericho’s face and he blinked awake splayed out across the tangle of blankets.  His head pounded, the remnants of a six-pack discarded on his bedroom floor.  The remains of a TV dinner went stale on the nightstand.  Static blared from the television he left on in his living room when he stumbled to bed.  Rain beat against the walls of the cabin, each gust more insistent than the last.

His legs twitched.  A small itch, at first, then an undeniable urge to move.  He stood up and wrapped the comforter around his bare shoulders.  The storm shook the cabin, wind creaking through the rafters.  His hand froze like a photo on the front door handle, illuminated by the blue flash of lightning.  The world plunged into darkness, then reappeared in static white as he stepped onto the small porch.  Splinters pierced his bare feet.  He stepped onto the gravel path and walked towards the copse of trees across from the cabin.  

Rain weighed down the comforter wrapped around him, so he dropped it.  It cascaded to the ground.  The saturated lawn sank beneath his weight.  He approached the trees in a trance.  Between the trunks, a light danced, beckoning.  Jericho watched it.  Beneath the driving rain, a gentle song started up.  Jericho ran towards the light.

✴ ✴ ✴

Sinclair dreamed of running.  He woke with a start -- his house phone blaring while someone banged on his door.  He barely heard them over the din of the storm.  He turned over, his alarm clock reading 2:23 AM.  He pulled on the robe hanging on the bathroom door before heading down the stairs.  His phone stopped ringing, and immediately started again.  He opened the front door to the thundering storm outside, where a soaked and disheveled Erin Gaye stood in her civilian clothes.

“Vitale, thank God,” she breathed.

Sinclair stared at her blankly.

“Get dressed, I’ll fill you in on the way,” she yelled over a crack of thunder.

SInclair returned wearing a cheap plastic poncho and piled into Gaye’s old Ford.  She rolled the car onto the long driveway, slogging through mud.  The windshield wipers swung wildly to stem the flow of the rain.

“We’ve got three missing, two buildings on fire,” she said, “well, three missing as of now.”

“What?” Sinclair’s body still creaked with sleep.

“I don’t know, they just walked into the storm.  Two of them were kids, one was a senior, they just walked out.  Walked out into the rain and their families couldn’t call them back.  The fire department responded to the fires, but apparently the buildings just burned to the foundation and the rain put them out.  Think it might be arson.”  Deputy Gaye gritted her teeth and turned onto the paved road, which turned into a shallow stream with the volume of falling water. 

She flipped her brights on.  They reflected off the surface of the road and lit the dark forest surrounding them.  Sinclair imagined the shapes of people running between the trunks of trees as she sped to the police station, skidding around corners too quickly as he clung to the panic handle.  They rushed into the precinct when they arrived, joining the growing crowd huddled together against the storm in the small lobby.  They immediately crowded Sinclair and Deputy Gaye.  Sinclair stood on a chair in the lobby and cleared his throat.

“I need everyone to settle down!” he shouted over the clamor, “before we can do anything, we need to know who’s missing, where, and how.”

The crowd began to speak again, people begging him to look for their son, their mother, their daughter who was very sick.

“Stop, raise your hand if you’re an immediate relative of a missing person.  That means parent, child, spouse, or caregiver,” a few people raised their hands.  Sinclair looked at Tanner crammed into a corner, “Officer Morin will take you to the back and get you set up.  We start looking as soon as we have the full story.”

“My mom can’t wait that long!” A desperate voice rose from the crowd.

Sinclair looked the distraught man in the eye, and motioned for Tanner to come get him.  “Sir, we can’t do anything for her until we know where to look.  Once we know who’s missing and where they were last seen, we’ll know how to proceed.”

He tried to protest to Tanner as he swept him out of the crowd and into the back room.  The storm crashed outside.

“The rest of you, stay here.  I don’t want anyone going out in that storm again until it settles down.” Sinclair stepped down from his pedestal and helped Deputy Gaye and Tanner herd the immediate family of the missing into the back.  Eden took her seat behind the divider as she arrived, soaked to the bone.

Sinclair leaned over the table as she situated herself, peeling away layers of wet clothing.  “Edie, do you have a deck of cards back there?”

“I think I have a couple in the breakroom,” she said, “why?”

“Grab them and get these folks preoccupied with a game of poker or something,” he said, “no use having a lobby of worriers.  Better to give them a distraction.”

Eden nodded and pushed past him, hurrying towards the breakroom.  Sinclair noticed the tremble in her fingers, the house slippers still on her feet with the sherpa lining matted and wet. Sinclair slipped into the relative quiet of the back rooms behind her and joined Deputy Gaye as she organized the immediate family members.  She held the hand of a woman who sobbed between words.

“She’s gone!  She --” the woman sucked in a breath, “she just…”

Deputy Gaye squeezed her hand and guided her into a quieter corner.  “It’s okay, I need you to tell me what happened.”

Tanner spoke with a family, trying his best to get a clear picture through the crossing voices of parents and children.  The missing child’s siblings cried and clamored for their parents’ attention as another peal of thunder shook the precinct.  He looked at Sinclair, eyes wide and overwhelmed, before the tide of voices sucked him back under.

Sinclair pulled aside a young man who seemed desperate to catch someone’s attention.  “Sir, can you tell me who you’re missing?”

“Sher -- Sheriff!” he exclaimed, “I was hoping to talk to the deputy.” He shifted uncomfortably and hid the ring on his hand.

“I’m not here to judge, sir.  Who are you missing?” Sinclair placed a hand on his shoulder.

“A… friend of mine, Alex Stanton is his name,” he said, “he ran out, in the middle of the night.  He has a house up in the hills.  I tried to follow him, but the storm…” he trailed off, “I know you said parents and spouses only, but I’m the only one who saw him leave.  His family isn’t --”

Sinclair waved to cut him off.  “I don’t need more details about your relationship than you’re comfortable giving me.  Did he put on a coat or shoes when he left?  Anything to protect him from the storm?”

The man shook his head no.

“Did anything prompt it?  Did you fight, did his parents call that day?” Sinclair probed.

The man shook his head again.  “He just got out of bed and left.  I couldn’t -- it was like he couldn’t hear me,” his voice broke, “we came here because it was supposed to be safe.”

“And I want to make it safe for you both,” Sinclair assured him, “can you give me the address where you last saw him?”

The man nodded.  Sinclair grabbed scrap paper off the table and wrote down the address of the cabin.  He knew the area, he’d taken the road in to scold Jericho for giving away evidence just yesterday.

“Which direction did he run in?” Sinclair asked.

“Just… out the back door.  I tried to follow him, but I couldn’t see in the storm,” he sucked in a shaky breath, “is he going to be ok?”

“I’m going to do everything in my power to find him,” Sinclair guided him into the breakroom where a fresh pot of coffee had just finished brewing, “in the meantime, take a seat.  Have some coffee if you want it.  We’ll mobilize the troops as soon as we know who’s missing.”

The phone rang and Eden picked it up.

“Hello?” she paused, “oh no,” she covered the receiver with her hand, “sheriff?”

Sinclair looked over at her, then back at the worried man.  “Hold on just a moment.”

Eden lowered her voice and leaned in when he approached.  “It’s the Goreman hospital, Alice left.”

“What do you mean Alice left?  She’s on suicide watch,” Sinclair hissed, looking back towards the gathered crowd, “fuck, get the location and time, then call the state patrol.  The county sheriff.  Whatever.  Deputy!”

Deputy Gaye perked up.  He waved her over while Eden finished up the dispatch call and dialed the number for the county sheriff.

“What’s the matter?”

Sinclair sucked his teeth.  “Alice is gone.  Left the hospital.”

She leaned in.  “She what?”

“We need to get a search party out there now or we’ll have bodies to find in the morning,” he turned to look at the crowd and grabbed Deputy Gaye by the shoulder, “Erin.”

“I can handle it.  Take Tanner, talk to the Goreman police and canvas the area around the hospital.  Don’t trust Flynn to do any of your work for you,” she shrugged him off with bared teeth and turned back to the crowd, “People!”

Everyone turned, the panic simmering down to hushed murmurs through the small crowd gathered in the lobby.

“If you came with a group, I want you to designate one person to stay here and give me the information.  That is one person,” she waited for the wide-eyed crowd to nod, holding up a finger, “the rest of you find a seat until we call for a search party.  We will find everyone tonight, understand?”

The cacophony broke out again as Sinclair and Tanner slipped out the door.  Tanner handed Sinclair the keys, but he shoved them back at the younger officer.

“You drive.  You know the roads better,” Sinclair commanded.

“Yep,” Tanner said, his eyes betraying his anxiety as he fumbled with the key in the cruiser door.  The car’s engine grumbled under the sound of the driving rain.